Complete Project Gutenberg John Galsworthy Works eBook

PART III

CHAPTER I

Mrs. MACANDER’S evidence

Many people, no doubt, including the editor of the
’Ultra Vivisectionist,’ then in the bloom
of its first youth, would say that Soames was less
than a man not to have removed the locks from his wife’s
doors, and, after beating her soundly, resumed wedded
happiness.

Brutality is not so deplorably diluted by humaneness
as it used to be, yet a sentimental segment of the
population may still be relieved to learn that he
did none of these things. For active brutality
is not popular with Forsytes; they are too circumspect,
and, on the whole, too softhearted. And in Soames
there was some common pride, not sufficient to make
him do a really generous action, but enough to prevent
his indulging in an extremely mean one, except, perhaps,
in very hot blood. Above all this a true Forsyte
refused to feel himself ridiculous. Short of
actually beating his wife, he perceived nothing to
be done; he therefore accepted the situation without
another word.

Throughout the summer and autumn he continued to go
to the office, to sort his pictures, and ask his friends
to dinner.

He did not leave town; Irene refused to go away.
The house at Robin Hill, finished though it was,
remained empty and ownerless. Soames had brought
a suit against the Buccaneer, in which he claimed from
him the sum of three hundred and fifty pounds.

A firm of solicitors, Messrs. Freak and Able, had
put in a defence on Bosinney’s behalf.
Admitting the facts, they raised a point on the correspondence
which, divested of legal phraseology, amounted to this:
To speak of ‘a free hand in the terms of this
correspondence’ is an Irish bull.

By a chance, fortuitous but not improbable in the
close borough of legal circles, a good deal of information
came to Soames’ ear anent this line of policy,
the working partner in his firm, Bustard, happening
to sit next at dinner at Walmisley’s, the Taxing
Master, to young Chankery, of the Common Law Bar.

The necessity for talking what is known as ‘shop,’
which comes on all lawyers with the removal of the
ladies, caused Chankery, a young and promising advocate,
to propound an impersonal conundrum to his neighbour,
whose name he did not know, for, seated as he permanently
was in the background, Bustard had practically no
name.

He had, said Chankery, a case coming on with a ‘very
nice point.’ He then explained, preserving
every professional discretion, the riddle in Soames’
case. Everyone, he said, to whom he had spoken,
thought it a nice point. The issue was small
unfortunately, ’though d——­d
serious for his client he believed’—­Walmisley’s
champagne was bad but plentiful. A Judge would
make short work of it, he was afraid. He intended
to make a big effort—­the point was a nice
one. What did his neighbour say?